A picture can say 1000 words, but this one was shouting “turn around and don’t come back.” Unfortunately, after our twins’ behavior on the flight home, which continued during the hour-plus ride back to the city, in a car service, I was pretty sure we were added to a “no fly or travel at all list”, which meant that we had no choice but to find out what awaited us behind door number 1.
If only we could get it open. Turns out, while we were enjoying a lovely vacation (to which I am grateful), our neighbor’s apartment sprang a leak, and the water managed to find its way to the “lowest ground’ ie, our apartment.
Landing at JFK from a long international flight at around 9:00 pm, followed by an eventful time at Customs, put us at home at roughly 11:30. Actually, I didn’t arrive to my front door until well past midnight after one of our extremely over-tired 2 year olds, Laurel, insisted on dragging an oversized suitcase, in her words “myself”, from outside on the street, to the building; then through a huge lobby, finally reaching the elevator and the long hallway to our door. I was too late to witness the panic (and exhaustion) in my husband’s eyes because he had just ripped out a few wood floor boards, with his bare hands, in order to open the door wide enough to get us inside. Of course, me not knowing what happened (only wondering why they abandoned me with Laurel and the suitcase), I wondered what kind of lunatic would do this when we just had the floors re-finished not long ago. . .
When I, finally, did start this blog, I had envisioned myself writing revealing, heartfelt, and humorous stories of motherhood, family, life in New York City – you get the drift. Some of it easy, some, maybe, more revealing and personal. But, if this sort of “material” keeps surfacing every week, at this rate, I may never need to go there. So far, I am finding, the day-to-day is all I can manage.